


Beauty is a Bitch: Yuga's Story

by leggplant



Category: Link - Fandom, Nintendo, The Legend of Zelda, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds, Zelda - Fandom, lorule - Fandom, ravio - Fandom, yuga - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Humor, Dark Comedy, Fantasy, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 02:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21366463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leggplant/pseuds/leggplant
Summary: A Link between Worlds is a game with heart and challenge. It's a story of courage and gaining the power to overcome the evils that plague Hyrule and save the princess from Yuga as a climactic ending... if you're Link, that is. Things aren't as great from the other side of the coin. Yuga himself recounts his trials and tribulations in rising to power. With some foul language and exaggeration, the Gerudo sorcerer paints (pun intended) a completely different picture of how things went down.
Relationships: Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Link/Yuga (Legend of Zelda), Princess Hilda & Ravio (Legend of Zelda), Princess Hilda/Yuga
Kudos: 2





	Beauty is a Bitch: Yuga's Story

**Author's Note:**

> Why did the paintbrush win the lottery? 
> 
> He had a stroke of luck!

Let me guess: you’ve heard the tale of the hero in green, haven’t you? The boy who dons an emerald tunic, blond hair whipping in the wind as he raises the blade of evil’s bane against any monster who dares to threaten the peace of the beautiful kingdom of Hyrule. Not too many have actually seen him, though. He always manages to come back when the darkness rises again, but those who witness him only do so for a mere moment, often disregarding him as only another young man wandering through a world struck by the wickedness of Ganon. He comes to clean up the mess with only a sword, and leaves with items blessed by the goddesses, the aforementioned Master Sword, a bundle of arrows that glow with holy light, and sometimes even a horse. The people love him and worship him. They record his victories for the citizens of the future to have faith in the gods when the villain inevitably returns. He is undoubtedly their beacon of hope, their legend, their hero, their savior.

I _ fucking hate him _!

My name is Yuga. I’m no such hero boy. My hair is the color of blood, not piss. You couldn’t catch me dead in green. Swords are useless if you can hold your own with powerful sorcery. I prefer a much less messy lifestyle, and I’m absolutely sick of hearing time after time about this abomination crawling out of whatever dirty magical forest exists at the time to almost kill himself by slaying the monsters and pissing off cucoos until he goes back to wherever he came from. He’s a maggot--a maggot who has courage and skill, admittedly, but a maggot nonetheless. 

There’s no love for the ones who are overshadowed by the hero. Forget being a maiden or even a sage. Your job is to sit there and go unnoticed as Blondie hogs the spotlight. Only the princess shares a fraction of his fame, and that’s a job I have no chance at since, contrary to popular belief, I am not a woman. In such a disastrous place like Lorule, you may as well do what I did: kick back and accept your place as a total nobody, cursed to insignificance by the people who drool at the princess’s shoes. In my case, I’m both a nobody and a Gerudo.

But let’s not drone on for too long about the circumstances here. In my opinion, story is much more fascinating than any background information, and my story is no exception. It starts like this: my face is against the dirt, my legs useless from overuse. The sun feels hotter than ever as it shines down on me, burning my skin. I can’t even hold onto my sorcerer’s rod anymore. My mouth is horribly dry. Nothing sounds better; even the acidic, filthy water that flows through Lorule’s lakes and rivers would suffice. I can do nothing but close my eyes as the vultures pull at my ears. Death seems imminent.

It sounds needlessly dramatic, no? But I can assure you, this has been the norm for years. I never thought much of the dead men and women I passed on the street whose innards lay outside of their bodies, but as I sigh in defeat, I feel a new kinship with them. I’ve joined the dead now, certainly. It’s only a matter of time before I’m picked apart by hungry creatures. A pained smile crosses my face. Never did I ever think I would be brought to this: a shell of a man who would die at the hands of nature itself. I was a Gerudo after all! Part of a clan known for their power, their ability to beat the odds and give whatever threatened our lives the middle finger! How could I ever fall so easily?

Well, thirst. Thirst doesn't really care what group you belong to. You’re just kind of fucked without it. 

My point still stands. I curse myself for ever abandoning my people in the face of disaster. What can I say? I possess no Triforce of courage. I have no love for that hero boy. I have no hope. Do I regret leaving everyone behind? Somewhat, but what else could I do? Die along with them? Stay to watch my family be ripped apart by horrific creatures? Refuse my mother’s command for me to flee so I wouldn’t suffer her same fate and be slaughtered like a helpless animal? No. I turned and ran, the tears falling from my cheeks as the screams of everyone I knew rang in my head like church bells.

Okay, sorry. I have a knack for embellishing my tales. That was total bullshit I just fed you. My family wasn’t ever eaten, they were just a bunch of lowlife losers who couldn’t even be bothered to comb their hair in the morning. So I “went to go get some Lon Lon Milk” and just didn’t come back. Well, maybe they got eaten after I left, but I don’t know and don’t care.

But anyway, back to the story. I still curse myself for abandoning my family. I mean, come on. They were unwashed savages, but they were still _ my _unwashed savages. When you’re at Death’s door, you learn a lot about yourself. You get these sorts of epiphanies. And I realized that I was a huge asshole. Let’s keep it real. I used to trip the kids who ran by me. I stole from whatever stores were still open. I bit into ice cream with my teeth when eating in front of other people only because it really bothered them. I put the D into “douche”.

So here I am, feeling pretty remorseful and sick of myself. Maybe this is what I get. Maybe this is karma. I’ve never been too big of a fan of the idea that you’ll get yours in the end. All those poor souls who were eaten by monsters couldn’t have been _ that _bad, right? Hell, even I wouldn’t deserve something like that. But the world doesn't care what I think, and I damn well know it because I can hear the caws of the vultures that circle over me. Do vultures eat living things? They’ll probably make an exception for me. It’s not like I can do much to convince them I’m anything but dead. After a few minutes of the unrelenting cries, the birds swoop down and land around me. One sits on my back, its talons curling around the fabric of my cloak. This is it. 

I grunt in protest, but it’s not enough to deter them. They begin to peck at my face, their beaks tearing away at my nose. Try as I might to ignore the pain, their efforts to chip away at me hurt like a bitch. A sudden warmth appears at the tip of my nose, but it’s only blood that drips off like a faucet. One vulture fastens its beak around one of my ears and pulls. I gasp at the agony. Before it can take off with my ear, someone appears before me and shoos the pests away with a voice that sounds like an angel’s.

“Get the fuck out of here! Go on, you little shits, or I’ll shove a stick up your asses and roast you alive!”

This lady is Hilda. You know, the actual princess of this entire shebang. She kneels down beside me to inspect my face. Her skin is beautifully pale like that of a porcelain doll. Her red eyes burn like tiny fires. She flicks a lock of violet hair behind her face. We stare at each other, each of us silent and unmoving. Finally, Hilda extends her hand.

“Can you stand?” she says. Yes, dumbass, I can stand. I just decided it’d be fun to lay down like a corpse. My silence seems to satisfy her need for an answer. She takes one of my hands and both of hers and pulls me up with surprising strength. Unfortunately, I’m at least a foot taller than her and she can only get me up to my knees. I fall forward in a convenient bowing pose. 

“You poor thing. You must be close to death. Let me help you.” Hilda closes her eyes and raises her arms to the sky. She whispers something, and suddenly I feel like a warm light has been cast upon me. My fingers dig into the earth. I find the strength to sit up and blink in confusion. If only I knew magic like that. “Are you better?”

“A bit.” My voice is still dry. Shakily, I come to my feet. It feels uncomfortable to literally be looking down on the princess. She has to crane her neck to meet my gaze. Part of me wants to smile, but I don’t. As much as it pains me to say, the way she’s looking at me has me concerned for my safety.

“Do not fear,” she says. “You don’t need to give me anything in return. Consider it a gift. Did you fall on your way to somewhere? Your home, perhaps?”

“I was just kind of _ going _, Your Majesty. I didn’t have a place in mind.”

“Well then.” Hilda smiles. “Would you like to come to the castle with me? There is warmth and safety there.”

I look around for any bodyguards waiting to jump me. Does this woman really want some strange man to follow her into the most sacred place in this shithole? Is this some kind of test that’ll determine whether I’m creepy? This has to be a trap. I’ll either end up as a slave or dead.

As if she can read my mind, Hilda shakes her head. “There is nothing to fear. I simply want to offer my people any refuge I can. You’re the only Gerudo I’ve seen… I’d like to ask you about others of your kind and what befell them. Your clothing looks like it belongs to a sorcerer… another thing I haven’t seen besides myself. There are no strings attached. I only want any information you have so I better know how to protect my people.”

She smells like biscuits and tea. And I love biscuits and tea. Even if it means becoming a slave to get my hands on some, I’ll do it. I force myself to smile and nod. This girl’s clothing is pristine. There’s no doubt in my mind that she could handle dirtying herself by stepping foot outside of her precious castle for too long. This is my chance to get a decent meal.

“I’d love to go to the castle,” I reply. “I’m grateful for the offer.” To really seal the deal, I kneel, gently grab her hand, and kiss it. She doesn't look thrilled, but she doesn't look disgusted, either. 

“Let us go, then,” she says. Hilda pivots and begins to walk, her head held high. I can’t help but watch her in awe for a split second. The way she carries herself is so inspiring. She definitely acts like a princess, proud and proper. I feel like a student watching his master perform some incredible feat. My smile returns, this time genuinely. Let’s see how long her confidence lasts in this hellhole.


End file.
